


Ignore What They Tell You

by snarkengaged



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 23:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16842457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkengaged/pseuds/snarkengaged
Summary: Kashmir knew they were the recipient of unparalleled luck, to have a teacher as famously strange as Asra. (originally published on tumblr. Kashmir the nonbinary apprentice has caught a Countess-but how to keep her?)





	Ignore What They Tell You

**Author's Note:**

> This was written some time ago, so it's definitely well behind the times. But I liked it enough that I'd be sad if I lost it, so here it is.

Kashmir knew they were the recipient of unparalleled luck, to have a teacher as famously strange as Asra. 

His reputation for oddity allowed them to ply their craft like nothing else-and an easy majority of magic was how far you were willing to roll your bluff against dangerous winds. So they counted on it, and the universe in her fickle affection usually saw fit to richly reward a fortune-teller’s faith.

But they’d begun to wonder if they were pushing it. Kashmir did not wonder this often, yet it stirred uneasily now, as they flit between rooms. The sound of their boots upon the marble was drowned out by the kitchen staff cleaning up after the evening meal, and they took the opportunity to take the back stairwell two steps at a time.

The court (for the shitheel Consul was only the start) hated their audacity, yet had found it’s ammunition had no barbs and no purchase. How could it, against any apprentice who’d studied under the tutelage of Asra, who everyone knew could be so very, very strange? Magicians were all odd to begin with, even the most mundane ones-and that, Kashmir was not.

It never occurred to anyone that maybe magicians knew public opinion, and clever ones might use it towards dubious purpose. Asra was kind, and largely honest because he didn't usually think to lie, or lied for some larger benefit-but Kashmir was not and could never be Asra. How lucky for all that they were merely selfish!

Hadn’t, Kashmir had now explained repeatedly, Asra simply never taught them what not to do, about a great many things that would have occurred to most? How could they know the order of nobility-tier cutlery? Or how to properly address the primary barrister of the financial branch’s dealings? Or to the point that had drawn the court’s collective ire: how should an upstanding and appropriately modest citizen behave while in the company of a widowed and beautiful Countess?

Specifically, Kashmir knew, the concern of all these sycophants was how they definitely should _not._ Seemed like what anyone should _not_ do was be a fortune teller, or at least not this one.

But still they hesitated now, hand on the doorknob that would let them into Nadia’s wing of the palace. They glanced at the mirror beside the door, tried to rearrange their dark hair to something more attractive.

The memory excuses, the reliance on the ignorance they’d been dealt by inexperience, could only stretch so far. Some days, the magic came to you. But on the days it didn’t, you still needed to eat, and so you’d get good at judging people’s limits.

Otherwise, Kashmir could never have gotten away with this. They opened the door, and went through.

“This” had started with kissing Nadia on the bridge where she’d first met her husband, those goosebumps on Nadia’s bare skin even as she’d leaned over them. She’d been so daring, until their lips had warmed those shoulders and, in a feeling that Kashmir would never forget, she’d shivered under their mouth.

Now…well, now they’d complicated it. It included all sorts of things.

Nadia’s hair getting in their mouth all the time, for one. With her attentions came Portia’s passes at a threat; and the heart stopping moment as Nadia had stumbled on one of their walks, her face suddenly pained and her eyes distant. It included hands, every moment they could, hands. Kashmir was infatuated with Nadia’s hands, and if the way she leaned into their touch was any indication, Nadia felt the same. They behaved themselves-mostly innocent if always scandalous. But under the right circumstances, Nadia’s fingers lightly scratching and soothing upon their knee had made more than a few meals a test.

It included Nadia’s delighted laughs, her smiles that were not calculated for effect or audience. It included whispers in the afternoon as they lay in shaded rooms with windows open-Kashmir fancifully constructing memories for them as Nadia told them to hush, her voice betraying some emotion Kashmir wasn’t really able to handle. They’d always been a little too glib, Asra’d said, and they suspected whatever had triggered the memory loss hadn’t engendered a propensity for seriousness or self-reflection.

Probably the most scandalous thing of all, Kashmir thought derisively, was that they had the gall to seek out Nadia’s presence for itself. Monsters, all of the courtiers-but ones they had to play with to get to the bottom of what was going on.

Kashmir rounded the corner, ducking into their usual balcony.

They had begun ending their days together here, as dusk turned the Vesuvian ocean from bright turquoise to a deep purple velvet. It had become more difficult to spend every waking moment together, as they’d like to do. Kashmir’s investigations had begun taking them increasingly into the less desirable parts of the city, following the cards and the occasional mishap with Julian, and Nadia was tasked with the weight of governing, after all. Knowing the adult reasons why-and why some distance was probably better for them until things were resolved-didn’t stop the pangs of deep frustration at the frequent separation.

Kashmir didn’t remember, but they were certain they’d never been plagued like this before. It was mind boggling how anyone could get anything done in such a state. They were driven to distraction by Nadia.

Even now, as they came upon her at their table, their stomach flipped over. Her brow was furrowed as she ignored their arrival in favour of focusing on whatever boring trade document sat in front of her. Nadia’s legs were curled up beneath her, a light shawl wrapped around her that glittered even in the waning light. Kashmir paused in the doorway, their warm palm resting on the cool marble pillar. In the rare still moments, they were content to drink in the sight of her.

“You gaze is unusually bold tonight, witch,” Nadia stated, fondness creeping into her voice. She hadn’t raised her eyes from the papers in front of her.

Kashmir startled slightly, eyes catching on Nadia’s fingers, trailing in the condensation her chilled drink had left on the table. Impossibly, they rallied and sauntered over. She did not look up at the perfunctory kiss they placed upon her hair, nor the teasing fingers light at the edge of her shawl. Their mouth twisted wryly as they straightened. Perhaps the documents were not so boring after all. Glancing down, they could glean nothing from them.

“Apologies, milady,” they said pointedly, “I admit-I’m not very well house trained.” The filigreed chair was a relief after a day spent stalking the streets, and they stretched out their legs with a contented sigh.

Nadia glanced up, her gaze serious. “Are you feeling well?” she asked quietly.

Kashmir felt something clench in their chest. They cleared their throat.

“…yes,” they answered shortly, before something in them softened. “And you, darling? No headaches?”

Even in the beginnings of twilight, Nadia’s blush bloomed across her cheeks. Intoxicating. “I am well enough,” she said evenly, shifting.

Kashmir felt the telltale pressure of a leg pressing, sliding against their calf. “I can see that,” they deadpanned. Ignoring the pulse of excitement-barely stirrings, but there nonetheless-that had begun under their skin, they rolled their neck. A satisfying crack was audible enough that Nadia tsk’d. “But that doesn’t quite answer my question, I suspect.”

Nadia paused for the slightest fraction of a moment-but it was enough. Kashmir reached a hand across the table, where it found her’s. “How bad?” they asked in a low voice.

The Countess sighed, leaning on her other hand. “It was…difficult. But it passed, as it always does.”

They smiled at her. “Somehow, I’m not surprised. But…”

She fixed them with a surprisingly sharp look for their hesitation. “Yes, my love?”

Silence hung for a moment, as it so often did when one of them had the world break their perceptions for a second. It wasn’t often, but it was often enough. The strange thing was it would hit randomly-for an instant, they would feel the divide.

They managed.

“You look like it’s been a long day. That’s all,” Kashmir finished too casually. Their eyes caught on movement. Sharply, they called,“Hello…?”

“I’m sure it’s just Portia, dear.”

The Countess was right-the redhead appeared at the pillars they’d entered through.

“Didn’t mean to scare you!” she exclaimed, smiling apologetically. “I’ve always been a quiet one when I’m not thinking about it.”

“Lies,” Nadia accused, laughing behind her free hand. Portia beamed.

They felt a mix of things when she winked at them, and brought the wine forward, chatting with Nadia. She seemed frazzled, but in her usual good cheer. It was almost worth their heart hammering to see how Nadia eased when Portia was around. Almost.

They watched the servant carefully, saying nothing.

It wasn’t that they disliked or particularly distrusted Portia. Quite the opposite, in fact-she was a welcoming, kind soul, and when she was hired meant she was probably one of the safest people in the castle. It certainly made it unlikely the small woman was the Count’s murderer.

The problems were thrice: one, they couldn’t just overlook that she was Julian’s sister. His frequent appearances were a keg waiting to blow, even aside from being a murder suspect. Sure, Kashmir leaned towards him not being the murderer-an outsider and plague doctor who happened to be present when the fire started was a pretty good scapegoat. But that didn’t mean the siblings were in the clear, and Portia constantly being at the side of the woman who wanted her brother dead was, to put it lightly, a concern.

Two? They couldn’t shake the feeling that she was keeping her knowledge of their nighttime fountain excursions to herself for leverage. Whenever Nadia clasped the beautiful necklace around their neck, it felt much heavier than it was, and Kashmir didn’t know if they’d ever forgive Portia for that.

Lastly-and this was perhaps a pet peeve more than anything concrete-she was always damnably lurking.

They were fond of Portia, or Pasha, or whatever she went by-but the most powerful man in Vesuvia was probably burned alive. No one was safe-and Nadia was right here at the top, alone.

To be fair, they thought dourly, eyeing their glass, it wasn’t like Portia was doing anything they weren’t also doing. Kashmir downed their wine.

Their mood must have been noticed-when they glanced up, Nadia’s smile hadn’t slipped but her eyes were on them with a curious glint. Well, they’d have to answer the questions those eyes asked eventually, Kashmir supposed.

“I believe I’m done for the evening, ladies,” they said, putting the glass down and sighing. They winced as they got to their feet and every muscle protested. Damn Julian and his escapades. And Asra’s vague mysteries. Lucio too, if they were going to be an ass.

“Already?” Portia asked in surprise. “The night hasn’t even gotten to me regaling you both with-"

Kashmir smirked. “Another night, I think. But this old magician needs to collapse.”

“You’re younger than me,” Nadia interjected archly, though her mouth hid a smile in it’s corner. Underneath the exhaustion, some thrumming part of Kashmir woke back up. That curve upon those lips-that was their chance.

“I’m sure you know yourself best, darling. As for me, I would never dream of telling a beautiful Countess when to retire for the evening,” Kashmir laughed, bowing outrageously. Head still bowed, they offered quietly, “I might ask, though.”

Portia made a sound that was half a gasp, half a strangled laugh. Kashmir bit their lip, and kept their face down.

Nadia made a pleased, considering sound. Her jeweled fingers entered Kashmir’s view, and caressed their jaw. “Very well done. Very pretty,” she hummed approvingly.

Kashmir made an agreeing sound without thought, their eyes fluttering slightly under Nadia’s attention. When she gently pulled them upright with hands on their shoulders, they struggled to blink out of the daze, hoping they didn’t look foolish.

Her expression was warm, and either the wine or the boldness had brought a flush to the Countess’ cheeks. Drawing her hands back to herself, twisting in her shawl, she declared evenly, “I believe we won’t be requiring your services for the remainder of the evening, Portia.”

From…somewhere, Kashmir heard an affirmative, amused answer. They didn’t know if she left-they were absolutely transfixed by Nadia. Her eyes upon them felt like they were blazing a path of fire down their skin-a path they hoped she would follow with more than promise.

“Bet my gaze is very bold now,” they teased, pressing forward until they could feel the heat from her body in the space between them. Just far enough apart that they weren’t technically breaking any rules, but close enough that they would certainly scandalize someone if they saw. Without touch, Kashmir and Nadia could know each other in the middle of court at noon.

Perhaps there was some truth to the courtiers’ incessant gossiping.

Nadia laughed. Her heated breath was close enough to a kiss that it sent Kashmir’s head spinning. “On the verge of treasonous, my love. There’s a certain…hunger in your eyes. It’s very becoming.”

There was a tense pause, before Kashmir couldn’t stand it a second longer. Their hands went to her waist in an instant, pulling her flush with them.

Nadia whimpered when they kissed her, more suddenly then she apparently had anticipated. The heady feeling of surprising her sent a spark of heat through Kashmir that only fueled them further. They were insolent, teasing with tongue, with roving hands, under the open night sky for as long as she let them. It was just how they wanted it, just like them. And for awhile, Nadia let them devour her-she certainly enjoyed it.

But eventually they made their way inside, towards someone’s bed, unto satin and silks, though Kashmir would never be able to tell how. Nadia always got her way in the end.


End file.
